WHAT I HAVE DONE WITH BIRDS 



but two of them they were unusually well fed and grew to re- 

 markable size and beauty. Every time he approached the nest 

 the proud little father came turning somersaults through the air 

 and inquiring with true pulpit oratory, "Do you see it? Do you 

 hear me? Do you believe it?" and Bob with bared head and wor- 

 shipful eyes said that he did. One day he found them on the edge 

 of the nest and sent for me to hurry, for he not only wanted a 

 picture of them, but when they went it was near time for the 

 Warblers' queer brood to go also. 



I arrived just in time to secure a study of them, and soon they 

 were gone. But it was not until three days later that Bob found 

 one of the Cow-birds on a limb and the other on the edge of the 

 nest, and both of them so stuffed that by no possibility could they 

 point their beaks straight front over their swollen crops. The 

 Warbler was fully feathered. There was not a trace of down on 

 him, and by every right he should have been the first to leave the 

 nest; but he crouched down as if enjoying his first comfortable 

 breathing-space, and clung to the nest as if he could not move. 

 His crop and eyes were sunken, his beak and feet pale, and his 

 throat anything but the bright, healthy color it should have been. 

 Starvation was written all over him. There seemed to be nothing 

 of him but a little bunch of bones and abnormally developed 

 feathers. His plumage almost curled. 



The largest Cow-bird climbed to the edge of the nest and 

 stuck there and the other stayed on the limb. I tenderly lifted the 

 Warbler and set him between them to contrast their size and 

 plethoric condition with him. They never attempted to fly, but 

 opened wide beaks and raised cries for more food, though where 

 they were to put it one couldn't see. Bob said to them, "You 

 little boogers! I know what you'd get if I were engineering 

 this." I made several exposures and carefully put the Warbler 



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